


Easy Tiger

by CalamityK



Series: Hear Me Roar [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Here we go, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, PWP, Part Six of a Series, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Smut, This fic has it all omg, how do i even go about this, uhhhhhh ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityK/pseuds/CalamityK
Summary: Five hours, forty-two minutes, and a few more indecent texts from Yuri later, Otabek is finally unlocking the door with quick, unsteady fingers; setting his bags inside the door to unpack later, and stripping off his coat and shoes. Then he runs a hand through his hair, still rumpled from the flight and the cab, and tries to catch his breath. But he can’t.He can’t, because Yuri isright there. Standing in the darkened living room, waiting; pale purple sweater hanging loose on his shoulders and torso, above legs that are dangerously long and bare.-----Or that fic where Yuri and Otabek haven't seen each other for two weeks, and two weeks feels like too long.





	Easy Tiger

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. I know I said Hear Me Roar was a finished series but here I am with a PART SIX. MONTHS AFTER THE FACT.
> 
> And it’s pretty much just a PWP. Gratuitous smut from Beka’s POV because I realized all the smut in this whole series was all from Yuri’s POV.
> 
> My writing style has changed in the months since I wrote Parts 1-5 so I wrote this where it can stand alone (tho I highly recommend reading 1-5 first or even after so some of the little things make more sense).
> 
> Thanks to Michaela for beta-ing. You truly are bae. LIKE SO BAE THE BAE_EST I owe her my life's blood for this fic even being postable mmkay.
> 
> I committed many literary/descriptive word sins in this fic and I’m not sorry.  
> Also, there are hints in here that they’re moving in together, and that it’s been a little while since part 5. So yeah :). They’re very established in this one. Enjoy!

Otabek stares at his phone screen. He needs to be boarding his plane, but Yuri’s words outlined by the little gray text bubbles are mildly distracting.

_-victors making jokes again_

_-he said without you here i ‘lack control’_

_-i told him not to worry when you get back im sure youll put me in my place_

_-right beka ;)_

He rereads them a few more times, etching the words into the back of his mind, and not bothering to send a reply before locking his phone. He slips it into his coat pocket and grips the handle of his carry-on a bit tighter.

He thinks about how far they’ve come in their dynamic. From unlikely friends, to whispering ‘ _I love you’_ over breakfast. From Otabek being the only person Yuri would listen to, _to being the only person Yuri will bend beneath_. He thinks about the first time he pressed Yuri against a wall and held him there; fingered him open and stretched him out until it was unbearable for both of them. The way Yuri had trembled and mewled as Otabek took apart his body piece by shattering piece.

Then he remembers he’s still standing in the middle of a public airport terminal, and he shakes his head to dispel the images. He thinks of his routines instead; the grueling practice he needs to put in to properly hold his sit spins, to land his quads. He thinks of the boxes in Yuri’s flat that he still needs to unpack; of the dishes no doubt waiting to be washed in the sink, because he’s been gone for two weeks and Yuri refuses to get his hands dirty. He thinks of his favorite classic novels— only the boring parts—and of how tired he’ll be after the plane lands, but none of it is any use.

His mind just keeps floating back to the way Yuri stills beneath his fingertips when he runs them against the back of Yuri’s hand, or along the tops of his thighs. The way Yuri _gives_ against commands mouthed into the skin at the crook of his neck, or down the jagged line of his spine. It replays the way Yuri whimpers and shakes apart beneath him—arched and taut and gasping— every time Otabek so much as _asks_.

All of his fingers go numb in their grip. It’s going to be a long flight.

_\-----------_

Five hours, forty-two minutes, and a few more indecent texts from Yuri later, Otabek is finally unlocking the door with quick, unsteady fingers; setting his bags inside the door to unpack later, and stripping off his coat and shoes. Then he runs a hand through his hair, still rumpled from the flight and the cab, and tries to catch his breath. But he can’t.

He can’t, because Yuri is _right there_ . Standing in the darkened living room, _waiting_ ; pale purple sweater hanging loose on his shoulders and torso, above legs that are dangerously long and bare. His blonde hair is unbraided, billowing down around him in sleepy waves, and Otabek reaches for it as he steps forward. Gets his fingers tangled in it and tugs Yuri to him.

For a moment, he’s just staring into Yuri’s eyes. They shine so green in the waning light; like iridescent stars—if stars could be eclipsed and full of want.

Then he’s kissing him. Open mouthed and urgent— _desperate—_ to a point that his knees go weak, and it’s all he can do to hold Yuri up along with himself. Their hands are all tangled along each other, moving in time with their mouths. He drags against Yuri’s bottom lip with his teeth, then smooths it over with his tongue. Then he breaks away, _just barely_.

“God, I love you.” He breathes the words, moving his mouth along the smooth skin of Yuri’s jaw, then further down. Trailing nips and sucks above Yuri’s pulse points; licking into the hollow of his throat, and pulling his tongue across Yuri’s adam’s apple, feeling it move as he swallows a gasp.

“ _I’ve missed you, Beka_.” Yuri’s voice is soft, quiet in a way only Otabek is used to.

“Missed you too, _Yurotchka_.” He moves back up to Yuri’s chin; using his grip at the base of Yuri’s skull to tug his head back even further, before reclaiming his mouth.

 _It’s only been two weeks_ , not even that, _but_ _god_ _he’s missed Yuri_. Missed being on the ice beside him every morning; seeing his routines and step sequences before anyone else. Missed waking up with Yuri’s hair streaming over onto his pillow, having to climb out of bed gently, so he can go make breakfast without waking him. He missed all the easy routines and habits they’ve fallen into, but most of all he’s missed _this_.

The way Yuri feels when pressed against him: warm, inviting, _like home._

 _And the way Yuri tastes._ Not just his mouth—with its honeyed saliva from all the forbidden sweets Yuri sneaks into his diet—but also _his skin_. Yuri’s skin tastes like foreign peaches, alternating between unbearably saccharine along his edges, and pleasantly bitter near his center.

 _Addictive,_ Otabek thinks, _like chasing gold_.

Yuri whines against his mouth, and Otabek lets his hand trail down Yuri’s back. He catches the hem of the pale sweater in his palm, and tugs gently at the soft fabric. Yuri responds by tangling his hands in the front Otabek’s shirt, grinding closer, and making Otabek even more aware of the want between them. Otabek pulls back, opening his eyes; needing to look.

“ _Easy, tiger_.” He says, moving his thigh for Yuri to grind against, even as he brings his other hand to Yuri’s hip and stills the movement. “I want to take my time.”

Yuri whimpers, and Otabek can feel his legs quaking; can sense him trying to control the way his hips are canting forward against Otabek’s grip. “ _I need you, Beka_.”

The plea almost undoes Otabek’s resolve, making his throat go dry, and Yuri probably knows that. So, Otabek lets go of the sweater, and moves under it, finally smoothing across the heated skin of Yuri’s lower back. He lingers right above the waistband of Yuri’s boxers; mind releasing a silent benediction about the fact Yuri had chosen to greet him without pants. Then he dips beneath the elastic, dragging his fingers along the ample curve of Yuri’s ass.

It’s pleasing—heady even— the way Yuri begins to moan as Otabek kneads him. The sounds are small, and breathy. Otabek decides to chase them, slipping one finger over; spreading Yuri and reaching to tease him. Then he stops, a prickle of surprise running across his skin when he’s met with something other than Yuri’s sensitive flesh.

“ _Fuck.”_ He gasps as his fingertips trail over the flare of cool metal tucked between Yuri’s cheeks. “Are you wearing a plug?”

“I-I wanted to be ready.” Yuri keens, breathy and high. “As soon as you got home, I wanted to be ready for you.”

“Fuck, Yura.” Otabek curses again, ignoring Yuri’s high whine of protest as he removes his hand. “ _Bedroom._ ”

He places enough emphasis on the word that it can’t be mistaken for a request, and a familiar shock of heat spreads right to Otabek’s core when Yuri obeys without hesitation; letting go of Otabek’s shirt and slinking through the house on his unsteady, bandaged feet. He doesn’t even glance back— _probably knows better_ —probably thinks he’s in for enough punishment just from using the plug without permission. Otabek releases a thin hiss at the thought, palming himself once before he follows Yuri down the hall.

Yuri is already climbing on the bed. The subtle hitches in his breath are more noticeable— make more sense— now that Otabek is aware of the plug. He leans against the door and just watches as Yuri settles into the center of the bed, following the same pattern as usual, and turning to face Otabek before stripping off his sweater.

The dim light of dusk seeping through the window catches on the lines of Yuri’s torso. His abs are tightening with each breath he takes, and Otabek wants nothing more than to fit his tongue along each defined groove. It’s a want that only increases when Yuri’s hands move to his boxers, pushing them down—deliberately unhurried— past the V of his hips. The reaction that shakes Otabek’s body, when Yuri’s cock springs free and the fabric is tossed to the side, feels a lot like losing control. _That just won’t do._

 _“_ Don’t touch yourself.” Otabek makes his voice sound hard, and Yuri’s hands freeze where they are; almost reaching for his cock. He obediently fists them in the sheets on each side of his thighs, and tilts his body back, waiting.

Otabek appreciates the view for another moment, before forcing his gaze away and looking around the room. He needs to ensure Yuri can no longer use those hands, or this is going to end way too soon.

His eyes land on a scarf that he recognizes as his own. He doesn’t know why it’s tossed haphazardly beside the bed and not where he left it, but he doesn’t care. The soft grey material is perfect for his needs. He makes sure Yuri watches as he bends to pick it up, moving languidly onto the bed after, and forcing Yuri onto his back so he can straddle his stomach.

“ _Beka_?” Yuri’s voice lilts the name into a panting question, and he eyes the scarf like he knows exactly what Otabek has in mind.

“Shh, _Yura_.” Otabek says, leaning down to plant a kiss on Yuri’s lips, both to soothe and to tease him. “I said I wanted to take my time.”

And he _does_ ; gathering Yuri’s hands one by one and bringing them above his head. He wraps one end of the scarf around them, weaving it in and out between Yuri’s thin wrists; making sure he can’t tug himself loose, before knotting it off. Then he loops the other end through the rails of the headboard, tugging it like a pulley, and savoring the way Yuri’s body stretches below him. He doesn’t tie it off until Yuri’s knuckles are against the cool metal of the headboard, and his back is arched with the strain.

Otabek runs his hands down Yuri’s arms to feel the way they’re flexed. Leaning down again to press another kiss to Yuri’s mouth, then his chin, then the cusp of his clenched jaw. “ _Don’t move.”_

To Yuri’s credit, he manages to hold himself perfectly still, not even shuddering as Otabek pulls back from him and maneuvers off the bed.

Otabek can feel the smirk playing across his own lips. _Yuri hates this part_ , but being tied up isn’t a real punishment in the end. Yuri will still get what he wants from this. The punishment comes in the way Otabek plans to give it to him; the way he’ll keep Yuri on the edge then push him over it again and again.

 _It’s selfish_ , the way Otabek can’t wait to take Yuri apart, _so selfish_.

He grabs the bottom of his shirt. They don’t do it like this often, don’t get it to this extreme, and he knows the longer he teases, the more time he takes, the more Yuri’s wall of defenses falls to bits. So, he pulls the shirt off slowly, making sure Yuri is watching before he tosses it aside and moves his fingers to the zipper of his jeans. He’s straining against them and each inch of metal teeth he releases is a relief, but he makes sure to keep it gradual; suffering for the tease.

When the jeans are discarded, and he’s down to his boxers, he stops. It takes everything in him not to palm himself again, but he has priorities. Stepping over the fallen fabric he moves forward, dodging the bed to rifle through the night stand until he finds what he’s looking for.

Once he checks the label to make sure the lube he grabbed is edible he places it on the bed beside Yuri’s hip. Then, and only then, does he position himself back on the bed, facing Yuri, right between his open knees. He moves one hand down his own abs slowly, resting it on the elastic of his boxers and making sure Yuri tracks the movement with his eyes. When he’s sure Yuri’s gaze is locked on, he slips under the fabric and finally wraps his fingers around his aching cock. It’s barely a relief, and nothing compared to the way Yuri will feel around him.

“I should make you watch me come.” He says, but Yuri shakes his head.

“ _Just touch me, Beka_. It’s been too long.”

Otabek can’t argue with that. He has to squeeze himself pretty hard to curb the twitch Yuri’s words send through him. “I have to punish you somehow...for using the plug.”

Yuri just nods, because he wants that, expects that, _has been waiting for it_ , but Otabek still wants to take this slow. He pumps himself once before letting go and removing his boxers. There’s no sense in teasing Yuri with them on, and he’s sure they’ll just get in the way later.

He wants to touch Yuri, like he’s been asked to, but that would be too simple, too straightforward. So instead, he plants his palms on the mattress on each side of Yuri’s ribs, and leans down until his lips hover above his sternum, _almost touching_ , but not quite.

“Are you going to beg tonight, Yura?” He knows his voice is a low rumble Yuri will feel in his chest, and he can see the gooseflesh raise where his breath ghosts over Yuri’s skin.

Before Yuri can answer Otabek is already moving, dragging his tongue over the bud of Yuri’s nipple, alternating it with sharp scrapes of his teeth and then moving to the other.

He feels Yuri’s shuddering breath; hears a word catch in his throat, and Otabek eases off a bit. “You _can_ talk, Yura.”

“I dreamt about you while you were gone.” Yuri inhales as Otabek reattaches his mouth. “E-every damn night.”

“Hmm.”

Otabek gives the hard, pink nub between his lips a final nip. Then he moves downward, laving his tongue on the skin over Yuri’s ribs; leaving lovebites in the grooves of each individual one with his descent.

“Dreamt about your h-hands on me.” Yuri continues in between the gasps Otabek is pulling from him. “Y-your mouth.”

Otabek kisses the line of Yuri’s hip. “Were your dreams as good as this?”

It’s an unfair question, and he sees Yuri shake his head frantically in response.

“Good. Because nothing’s as good as this, as _you_.” Otabek punctuates his declaration with a bite to Yuri’s curves, making Yuri scream as he’s marked to the bone. He moves away again, caressing the taut bend of Yuri’s knees.  “Let’s get your legs out from under you, you’ll hurt yourself if they stay bent like this.”

Yuri does his best to obey, straightening his legs with muscles that are already quivering. Otabek helps guide them flat before he pushes them further apart. Yuri whines, either from relief of the muscle strain or because he knows what’s coming. Otabek doesn’t care. He just moves his hands back up Yuri’s thighs until he grips the curve of Yuri’s ass in each palm and leans forward.

He’s face to face with Yuri’s leaking cock, hovering right above where the flare of metal is still nestled between Yuri’s cheeks. He glances down at it and can’t help but smirk.

 _Of course_ , he thinks, _Yuri chose the gold one._

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Yura.” He teases and he brings his thumb to the base of the plug, pushing in and making Yuri whine.

“D-don’t act like it's not your f-favorite.” Yuri’s voice cracks beautifully as Otabek pushes harder.

“Hn.” Otabek agrees, moving his mouth closer to Yuri’s cock. “But do you remember why? Or am I going to have to jog your memory?”

He releases the pressure on the plug, and Yuri says nothing. Otabek knows Yuri remembers, but he takes that as his cue to remind him anyway.

He brings the tip of Yuri’s shaft between his lips suddenly as he reaches for the lube. It takes no time to have Yuri in the back of his throat, and two slick fingers tugging at the base of the plug.

 _He likes seeing Yuri in gold_ . The way the color catches against his skin when there’s a medal around his neck, or the way it brings out hints of shine in Yuri’s long hair when he wears Otabek’s gold tinted jacket, but this -- _this_ \-- is something entirely different.

Yuri had bought it as a tease, right after Otabek won his last gold medal. He’d come straight off the ice to find Yuri against the wall in the private lockers trying to fit a five inch gold plug, with four curves of varying size, in his ass before Otabek caught him. He had only made it to the second bulb on his own, but Otabek made sure he reached the fourth and final before he’d shoved him in the cab back to the hotel.

Now, Otabek teases that bulb, the fourth and largest, until its stretching back out of Yuri. He makes sure to apply the right amount of pressure to keep it hovering just inside Yuri’s tight rim as he sucks back up his twitching shaft.

It’s enough to have Yuri breaking apart, coming hot stripes on his own stomach as Otabek releases Yuri’s softening cock from his lips. He makes sure Yuri’s body can’t push the plug out while Yuri comes down from his orgasm whimpering and tugging at his wrist restraints.

“Shh.” Otabek shushes him calmly; laying soft kisses against his thighs. “You did so well. Yura.”

“Untie me. _Please_.”

“ _Yura._ ” Otabek soothes him again as he lets the plug pop back in place. “Surely you’re not done yet?”

Yuri tugs once more against the scarf, but the whimpering stops as Otabek continues to kiss along the soft flesh of his thighs and ass. Otabek himself is unbearably hard, but he resists the urge to rut against the sheets. Yuri is the only one who needs to come more than once tonight, and he wants to stay hard for every moment.

It takes a few minutes of teasing before he sees it. The first tell-tale sign of Yuri’s dick twitching back to life. He wraps his arms around Yuri’s thighs and pulls him down, closer to Otabek’s face, and stretching Yuri as much as possible against the restraints as he dives back in.

Otabek kisses a ring around the base of the plug, letting his tongue flick past the edge in barely there increments. Yuri shudders against it, his knees over Otabek’s shoulder tightening.

“ _Please_.” Yuri pleads on a cracked breath, but Otabek shows no mercy; pressing his tongue hard against the plug before licking up to Yuri’s re-hardening shaft then back down.

“Please _what_ , Yura?”

“Fuck me, Beka.” Yuri gasps as Otabek circles him once more. “It’s too much, please just fuck me.”

“I will.” Otabek promises, pulling back for just a mere moment to move his hand back down. “Just not yet.”

This time when he grips the base, he tugs gently, wiggling it forward and enjoying the way Yuri mewls as each bulb gently pulls free. When the plug is all the way out he tosses it aside, not caring where it lands with a satisfying clatter. All he cares about is the man in front of him.

Yuri is so open, stretched wide and shivering as he strains to look down. Otabek wants nothing more than to fill him, but he’s already decided to go slow, and settles for re-slicking his fingers; this time with the come pooled on Yuri’s abs.

 _It’s filthy_ , he thinks, _how bad he wants to taste it_.

And he does. Pressing his tongue along his index finger and savoring the way Yuri’s eyes flutter shut as he watches; bottom lip trembling and wrists turning in their binds. There will be marks there tomorrow for Otabek to kiss as a reminder.

When his fingers are dripping, he puts them in place, one pushing past Yuri’s rim and then another. The plug did what Yuri wanted, he’s _ready_ \-- for all three of Otabek’s fingers at once.

It's easy now, once they reach this point, to have Yuri crying and whining and begging as Otabek presses into him. Adding his tongue on every other thrust until Yuri is pushing down on his own; screaming and writhing as he begs Otabek to fuck him. It’s not until Otabek curls his fingers, finding the sweet spot inside Yuri that he’s avoided so carefully, that Yuri truly sobs.

“ _Beka._ ” It’s a broken whisper, so desperate and worn down that Otabek’s cock throbs just hearing it.

 

“Yes, Yura.” He uses his free hand to stop Yuri from coming, even as he pushes up harder with his fingers. “Tell me what you want.”

“G-god, _please._ ” Yuri’s eyes are shut tight as he begs; tears leaking out the corners. “ _I need you, Beka._ ”

Otabek’s resolve to go slow weakens as he uncurls his fingers and lets go of Yuri’s shaft. Yuri cries out at being left empty so suddenly, and Otabek surges up to unbind his wrists as he lines himself up.

“Look at me.” He orders, as Yuri’s hands fall to the pillow above his head. “I need you to look at me Yura.”

Yuri does, his green eyes shining, and his pink mouth widening as Otabek presses in. Otabek can’t help tracing his thumb over Yuri’s bottom lip tenderly as he bottoms out. “I missed you so much, Yura.”

Yuri tries to raise his trembling arms around Otabek’s neck to hang on, but Otabek knocks them back down and places a kiss to the bridge of Yuri’s nose. “Lie still. I’ll go slow.”

Yuri nods, a small sigh escaping him as Otabek begins to move.

Otabek’s slow thrusts go sloppy way too soon as Yuri clenches around him. His back arches off the bed one last time--pressing him tight against Otabek’s chest-- as he’s seized with release.  The white-hot heat coiling in Otabek’s gut becomes too much to bear and he leans down to catch Yuri’s mouth as he spills with him.

The only things he can hear is the rush of blood in his own body and the staggered slide of his tongue against Yuri’s, but then Yuri’s collapsing below him. Exhausted and wrung-out, with tears drying on his cheeks.

Otabek does his best not to fall on top of him as he pulls out carefully and rolls to the side. He puts one hand over Yuri’s stomach and buries his face in the crook of the blonde’s neck. “Are you okay, love?”

He feels Yuri nod, finally moving his arms down and turning to curl against Otabek’s chest. “Two weeks was too long.”

Otabek huffs a barely-there laugh, because he’s inclined to agree. Even so, he takes a moment to pull back and appreciate the sight of Yuri in his arms; golden hair strewn everywhere, and flush barely visible in the dim light of night that’s still seeping through their window. It’s all he’s truly wanted since he’d gotten Yuri’s texts at the airport.

 _Which reminds him_.

“So, _Tiger_ ,” He says softly, “Are you going to tell Victor I put you in your place?”

The tired groan Yuri releases is how Otabek knows he’s truly okay. “Just shut up and cuddle me, you monster.”

_This time, Otabek is the one that obeys._

 

**FIN.**

**Author's Note:**

> Tis I the trashiest french fry.  
> Let me know if I satisfied the end of this series over at [Kingotabek](http://kingotabek.tumblr.com/)


End file.
